Windy
by Cathedra1
Summary: ONESHOT: Edgeworth is having one of those days where nothing goes right, and then Franziska shows up out of nowhere. EdgeworthxFranziska, implied PWxME


A/N- If there are any errors, please point them out :3 I have trouble proofreading.

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Though his case was falling into shambles, Miles Edgeworth considered today a victory; for once again he'd managed to eat lunch without spilling a drop of food on his cravat.

The next day he had a trial to attend on yet another murder case, and he was spending the day creating a case with the evidence he'd received thus far. It may have made sense for the police team to arrest the boy in the first place, but even Edgeworth could tell that it'd be simple to give the boy an alibi. He cringed at the thought of Phoenix's smug face when he pointed it out.

"I'm sorry?"

He broke out of his trance and looked at the cashier. She looked slightly terrified.

"The price for soup isn't that bad, there's no need to flinch. If you want to see outrageous prices, go next door," she said, looking at him oddly.

"Oh," he murmured, and made his expression neutral. "No, sorry I was thinking about something else," explained the prosecutor as he tucked away the receipt in his wallet. "Have a good day." He added, as he turned heel and headed towards the door.

Edgeworth pushed slightly on the door, and seemingly on its own it whipped open and hit the outer wall with a '_CRACK'_. He could feel the cashier lady staring at him, so he quickly strutted out of the restaurant. And, to top it all off a newspaper blew into his face the second he exited the building.

_'God just seems to hate me today.' _He thought, as he pulled the newspaper off his face. It flitted away down the street before hitting a garbage can.

He didn't remember it being so ungodly windy when he entered the restaurant. In fact, he remembered the weather being disgustingly sunny, not windy enough to slam a door shut. Sighing, he started walking towards the prosecutor's office to continue on his investigation of the case.

Why did the police even pin the crime on that man in the first place? The basis for the accusations of this murder was completely unfounded. He reminded himself to cut Gumshoes salary once the trial was over.

When another gust of wind blew his hair sharply in his eyes, Edgeworth swore loudly. This was absolutely ridiculous. As he kept his hand on his cravat to keep it from flipping upwards in his face, Edgeworth vaguely wondered if this was the reason Phoenix Wright had his hair slicked back in such a ridiculous fashion. It cut down on wind resistance; that was certain.

This, he supposed, is probably helpful since he rode a bike to the courthouse rather than actually using a car like the rest of the world. Or perhaps, he mused walking along the sidewalk staring at the ground, Wright spent all of his money on hair gel and couldn't afford a car. He remembered a trial a while back where Phoenix came to the courthouse with all of his evidence in a piece of cloth tied together. He smirked, remembering how unprofessional his childhood friend was.

Something whipped at his feet. Whipped was perhaps the most proper term he could come up with, for when the man looked up, he saw a familiar face on a body holding a familiar whip.

"Quit smiling, fool." Said the woman, and tightened her whip so it made a satisfying "_crack"_.

"What?" He replied, avoiding eye-contact with her. God really did hate him that day.

"Strolling down the street smiling foolishly when you have a case to be working on? And you call yourself a prosecutor."

'_I really should have driven his car today. Last time I try to look out for the environment by walking__.' _He thought scowling. "Then what are you doing, Franziska? Shouldn't you be investigation your trial?" He shot back at her.

Franziska was the one smirking now, and she brushed her hair out of her face with her gloved hand and replied, "I just emerged victorious from my case, I don't _need_ to investigate anything." She boasted, and rested her free hand on her hip.

"Well, some of us aren't so lucky to be given cases that children could solve." He said, and marched on ahead, while the wind kicked up some sand in his face.

He listened to her heels click as she followed quickly behind. "Even if it was a simple case, you would have needed help from Detective Scruffy to win, fool."

"Do not tell me the details of your trial please, Ms. Von Karma." For that statement, he felt a sting on the palm of his hand. "Nngh-!" He gasped. Despite the possibility for more pain, he decided to push on and said, "Is that the best you can come up with? You can't think of an adequate argument, so you let your whip do the talking for you." Edgeworth grinned as he heard her leather gloves tighten against the whip held in her hand.

"My whip is more coherent than the foolish prattle that falls out of your mouth." She snapped, and crossed her arms, fisting her glove in the fabric.

"And there you go, crumbling under pressure like always." He sighed. He was rewarded with another sharp whip to his right hand. "Jesus!" He wheezed. Edgeworth brought his hand up to his face, and inspected it. She'd caused it to turn red, and there was a tiny cut. "What is wrong with you?" He cried out, losing a bit of his composure. "Seriously, you need to learn some self-control."

"You can't stand my whip's sharp tongue now, Miles Edgeworth?" She said coyly.

He stared at her for a second and looked away. "This is pointless." He decided aloud.

She looked at him a grinned. "I win." Franziska declared, and she swaggered ahead.

Miles was about to reply with "Excuse me," Followed by a well thought out insult, when the wind finally succeeded in blowing the cravat into his face. "Excu-plft!" Was all he managed to articulate.

He pulled his cravat out of his eyes and saw the female prosecutor laughing at him. "Oh Miles Edgeworth, that was priceless." She gasped between her snickers.

He scowled.

She fingered the teal gem on the cravat she wore. "This is the reason why I insist on wearing my broach; I avoid misfortunes such as that. Oh, you looked so foolish…" She sighed, looking absolutely pleased with herself.

They stood there for a second; Miles looking positively bitter, and Franziska looking as though she'd just won the lottery. And right then, another gust of wind hit the two prosecutors, causing the female's skirt to flip up, and give the male a full view of what was underneath.

"Ah!"

It was completely unintentional. It was simply a sound of surprise. And, there was no way in hell that Edgeworth would have let that slip intentionally, because he could see what was coming next from a mile away. But that still didn't stop the pain.

_Wha__-PISH! __Wha__-PISH! __Wha__-PISH!_

He cursed loudly and grabbed at his arm, which was hit the strongest by her whip. "What the _HELL_, Franziska?" He gasped.

"What the _HELL,_ yourself! Keep your eyes where they belong!" She snapped, and whipped him again. Her face was darkening quickly, and he noticed that her posture was suddenly shot.

"I was simply surprised by the gust of wind, nothing more." He insisted, gingerly fingering his arm. "You get far too worked up over nothing."

"You being perverted is hardly 'nothing', Miles Edgeworth." She huffed, patting her skirt.

"That was not… perverted." He responded quietly, rubbing the welt that had appeared. "At least I'm more dignified than most of the male population. I am a man you know; can't you at least grant me that?"

She wagged her finger, in a fashion similar to how her father used to. "Miles Edgeworth, I could never grant you that. I am twice the man that you'll ever be, and I'm wearing two-inch heels," She said, regaining her composure, but still keeping one hand on the bottom of her skirt.

"Y-You're what?" He stuttered. Did… did she honestly just say that?

She brought her free hand to her face, and placed her index finger on her bottom lip. "How should I say this, fool? You are by far the farthest thing from a man in the prosecutors' office. A small girl has more testosterone than you do-"

"That," He yelled out to get her attention and to stop her from continuing. "That…" He began again, his mind suddenly blank. He was not going to take insults such as these, but he was at a complete loss of words. "Stop saying that! I am… not going to take this!" He lowered his voice and murmured, "I am indeed a man, and I'd like to see you prove it otherwise."

She looked horribly smug, and placed her hands on her hips. "Miles Edgeworth, you should know better than anyone that I'm a prosecutor. What we need is for you to prove to me, that you are what you claim you are. And growing a beard won't convince me, because we all know that there are women at the circus who can do the same thing."

He stared at her with his lips pursed, his mind racing. He did the only thing that came to mind, and grabbed her cravat, pulling her lips to his.

They stood there, lips locked. Miles kept his eyes closed in defiance and Franziska's eyes were wide open in bewilderment. He finally pulled away with their lips making a wet noise as they parted.

"Any objections?" He breathed, feeling his face get hot, and smirking despite himself.

Her mouth hung agape, and her eyes darted across his face.

He let go of her cravat, sneering. "It seems that was adequate evidence, no?" He asked her, raised an eyebrow.

"Objection!" She cried out once she found her voice. "I-…" She stuttered. "You…"

He lowered his eyelids, hovering about a foot away from her face. "Yes?"

"I never would have expected this from you." She said incredulously.

"Well, We're… we're not _really_ related you know…" He explained.

Some of the shock wore off her face as she clarified, "No, not that. I just wouldn't expect you to kiss a woman like that…"

He straightened up. "Well, I proved to you that I was indeed a man." He said haughtily, straightening out his suit.

"I thought you were gay."

There was a pregnant pause. "P-Pardon?" He cried out, his face turning crimson.

"Um… I didn't think you were straight?" She said meekly.

"…Why not?" He sputtered, feeling slightly embarrassed and immensely furious.

She shrugged. "Perhaps it had something to do with your fashion taste. I don't know that many straight men that wear such a flagrant color."'

"It's maroon!"

"And… the cravat wasn't helping much either."

"You wear one as well! And so did your father… you say that it makes _me_ look queer?" He said desperately.

She crossed her arms and looked off in another direction. "Well, I'm a girl, so I can wear frills. And father? I guess… he was able to pull it off? And it isn't only that. You seem to be obsessed with that fool Phoenix Wright."

Edgeworth couldn't believe what he was hearing, and he could feel his head throbbing from all the blood rushing to it. "Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't joke about something like this." She made eye contact with him briefly, and a grin emerged on her face. "Although, perhaps I should. You're face is priceless, Miles Edgworth."

He fought to keep as straight of a face as he could before continuing. "Wright, is merely a friend, and a rival in court. Just because I happen to have friends of the opposite sex doesn't mean that I'm automatically homosexual."

She shrugged, still grinning. "Say what you will, but I believe that everyone that you meet assumes that you're at least closet, fool."

He stared at her, not believing a word that she was saying. He tried to say something in his defense, but his mind was imploding too much for him to form a sentence. "Ah- nngh…"

She extended her arm and patted the top of his head. Edgeworth tried to swat it away, but she pulled it back. "I'll see you later, Miles Edgeworth. Oh, and you have a little spot of something on your cravat." She added indicating the one adorning her own neck, before waltzing off.

Today was a defeat for prosecutor Miles Edgeworth.


End file.
